


Crack Me Open

by BearlyWriting



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [15]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Broken Bones, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Prompt: Broken Ribs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-22 04:22:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20868116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BearlyWriting/pseuds/BearlyWriting
Summary: "Pidge's chest hurts."For the prompt "Broken Ribs" for the Bad Things Happen Bingo.





	Crack Me Open

Pidge’s chest hurts.

It’s been hurting ever since Ezor had slammed her into the wall with casual strength. Something had cracked then, sharp and brittle and loud as a gunshot. Through the adrenaline and fear Pidge hadn’t even felt it, but she had heard it, reverberating through her head as if it had come from inside her skull. When she had slid, breathless, to the floor - that’s when the pain had come. 

Sharp. Jagged. Screaming at her with every desperate inhale. She had slumped bonelessly against Hunk, gasping with the pain. He had clutched her close as gently as he could, broad hands fluttering over her shoulders, her arms, her back, murmuring low and urgent: “Where are you hurt? What’s broken?”

Pidge hadn’t had the breath to reply.

Then there had been the frantic escape. Finding Coran, face battered and looking worse than Pidge had felt. There hadn’t been time to worry about her ribs - or whatever vital thing had come loose inside her. She had barely felt it through everything else

But now, in the relative safety of the cave, the warm glow of the fire and the other paladins huddled close, it _hurts_.

Pidge wraps an arm around her chest as subtly as she can and tries to breathe shallowly without hyperventilating. It’s hard. The pain is like a vice around her ribs, tightening with every desperate breath. It’s difficult to focus on the conversations around her. Pidge feels strung out, limp and exhausted.

It’s only when Hunk puts a hand gently on her shoulder that she realises she’s trembling. 

“What hurts?” He asks, keeping his voice pitched low - an illusion of privacy.

For a moment, Pidge considers lying. It would be easy to say _Nothing_, to pretend that everything is fine and nothing hurts and all she needs is a little rest and she’ll feel better. But when she takes a breath to talk, her ribs scream and all that comes out is an awful, strangled croak.

Hunk winces. From across their little circle, Lance looks sharply at Pidge and Hunk shifts, as if trying to block his view.

“Your ribs?” He asks.

All Pidge can do is nod. The fire is throwing off enough heat that she’s sweating under her armour, but she feels strangely cold. Shock, most likely, she thinks. Or maybe it’s the adrenaline crash. A fine tremor races over her skin. A fat droplet of sweat trickles unhurriedly down the back of her neck, tracing the length of her spine.

Hunk’s voice is soft and sympathetic when he says: “I thought I heard something crack.” His hands are gentle when he presses them carefully against her chest, barely noticeable with her armour in the way. But pain still sparks like electricity at even that soft touch and Pidge can’t keep her startled gasp behind her teeth. Hunk winces, pulling his hands away before Pidge has even finished drawing breath. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs. “I’m guessing that hurt.” 

“What hurt? Is everything all right?” Lance leans around Hunk, undeterred by his bulk, to fix Pidge with another critical look. All of the paladins - and the others - are paying attention now. Pidge can feel the weight of their gazes even though Hunk blocks most of her view of the rest of the cave. “Are you hurt Pidge? Why didn’t you say?”

Pidge tries to shrug, but the movement pulls at her aching chest and turns the motion into a grimace instead. 

“We didn’t exactly have time to stop and chat, did we? Besides, I don’t think there’s anything we can do about it.” 

Hunk hums, probing gently with thick fingers. “No, I don’t think we can. I think your ribs are probably broken.” 

Pidge grits her teeth against the pain and frustration. 

“I’m not a doctor though,” Hunk adds, tucking his hands under his armpits. “Maybe you should have Coran check you over.”

Pidge nods. She doesn’t think she can speak, not with the tight band squeezing her lungs flat in her chest. Coran is resting in one of the lions, recovering from the beating he took trying to rescue them. Pidge feels bad disturbing him, but Hunk is right - none of them are doctors, exactly, but Coran is probably the next best thing.

“Will you help me?” Pidge asks, quietly, although the others must be able to hear her. Hunk nods sympathetically, and offers one broad shoulder, wrapping his arm firmly around her waist as he lifts her to a standing position. The movement shifts something deep in Pidge’s chest, sending pain shooting right through her like a spear, bright and all-encompassing. She clings to Hunk’s bulk and manages to stay upright, breath whistling through tightly clenched teeth. Sweat breaks out in little droplets across her forehead. One slides down over her cheek like a tear.

By the time they get to the lion, Pidge is panting, dizzy with the pain and the effort. The day has already exhausted her, and the pain and adrenaline crash have siphoned the rest away, a sucking black hole in the centre of her chest, draining her dry. Blue’s belly hatch slides open as if the lion has been expecting them, and Hunk helps her hobble inside.

“Who’s there?” 

Coran’s voice is surprisingly sharp, whiplash concern. Pidge doesn’t blame him, exactly, considering everything that happened. Hunk lowers her onto one of the benches lining Blue’s belly. Behind him, Pidge can see Coran’s battered face peer cautiously around the door to the cockpit. When he sees them, he visibly relaxes, stepping out into the hold and eyeing Pidge with concern. 

“Everything alright number five? You’re looking a little peaky.” 

It’s Hunk who answers, because Pidge is still wheezing desperately for breath. “I think she’s broken some ribs. I don’t know. It’s hard to tell with the armour on.” 

Coran steps closer. Casts a dim shadow across Pidge’s downturned face in the already dim light of the lion. “Do you want me to take a look?” 

Pidge nods. Then she fumbles with her armour, trying to strip it away with numb fingers. Coran and Hunk take over smoothly, pulling her chest plate away to bare the flight suit underneath. Pidge shivers when Coran presses gently against her chest, peeling the flight suit back with careful fingers. There’s a sharp inhale, air hissing over Hunk’s teeth. Pidge can imagine the bruising, vivid purple stains splashed across her skin. She can feel the throb of blood under her skin. The aching grind of her bones underneath that. 

“Definitely broken,” Coran murmurs. “Shame we don’t have the pods anymore – this would be an easy fix.” 

Pidge manages a single-shoulder shrug. Life with the castle was easier in a hundred ways – the loss of the healing pods was just another inconvenience, although admittedly a bad one. 

“We’ll just have to bind them for now. There’s not much else we can do here.” 

Pidge sits still as Coran winds a bandage from Blue’s first aid kit tightly around her ribs. It hurts as he applies it – aching pressure. But once he’s finished, she can feel the easing in her chest, the smooth release of pain. She breathes a little easier, testing her movement with an awkward stretch. Coran nods appreciatively. 

“I’m sorry Pidge, you’ll have to take it easy for now.” 

Pidge nods again, limp and exhausted. It’s not like there’s anything else they can do.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed :)
> 
> I have a tumblr at [bearly-writing](https://bearly-writing.tumblr.com/) if you fancy dropping by for a chat!


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